


A Peek Behind the Curtains

by Dr_Mini_Me



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Broken girl, Dead Father - Freeform, Doctor/Patient, Evolves into more, F/M, Some dry humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Mini_Me/pseuds/Dr_Mini_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, I was invited to look at the secrets behind the man that made up Hannibal Lector. I looked too long and found the monster waiting for me behind the curtain. Now he won't let go and my own won't go back to sleep. I just can't seem to stop myself from peeking again and again. (Hannibal Lector/ OC or OFC)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Peek Behind the Curtains

Blood. Blood just everywhere. It seemed to almost gush from the wound on my stomach, making me only angrier and angrier. Who stabs someone but can't finish the job? Honestly now, what sort of life are we into here? Have a bit of pride.

"Miss?" I heard the noise and spun the to side, nearly tumbling over in my haste. I was on my way to the hospital but surprisingly enough I couldn't find a taxi to take me in far out Ashland, Wisconsin. What. A. Bloody. Surprise...pun intended.

"We need to get you to the hospital." He came forwards, too fast. I didn't like how quickly he moved, it scared me into forcing a scream out of my hollow lungs. I don't remember much at all after this, a blur of people scrambling around us, my knees hitting the gravel, bright florescent lights rolling past me on a reel...Now my lungs felt scratchy.

I blinked a few times, taking in the room with its white walls, sparse furniture and bright lights. This was a hospital, the antiseptic smell lingered on in my nostrils, almost distracting me from the man who sat patiently on the chair next to me. His suit was tailored, well off then but not married, no. He was just a clean-freak. But why was he here? He lacked a badge so he wasn't apart of the hospital, private.

"Its rude to make people wait." His voice was lighter but serious in it's tone. I wanted to know where he was from because I hadn't heard that sort of accent before.

"I like to know what I'm getting myself into before I start." I caught his eye as I sat up in the bed, paper gown and all with the sound of my heart beat steady in the background. "Fatal flaw of mine." I tilted my head as I unabashedly took him in.

"Are you always this paranoid Miss...?" He was medical somehow, but worked with his hands judging from those callouses so maybe he hadn't _always_ been medical. People looked so out of place when they visited hospitals, halls rank with death and decay but he fit in. He was smooth, translucent but opaque. I couldn't _see_ him.

"Murphy." I stated my last name with little emotion accenting my voice as I stuck out a hand to shake his. This another telling sign of someone's personality, what they did when they shook you hand. Did they look you in the eye? Was it smooth? Did they exaggerate their grip?

"Hannibal Lector. I assume theres also a last name there." His handshake was firm but loose, he looked me in the eye and gave a single shake, letting go. He was comfortable, didn't feel like he needed to demonstrate anything to me. Confident then but he was waiting for me to do something.

"That **is** my last name." I deadpanned, looking him in the eye. I watched his face tighten then relax quickly, he was controlling himself. Add well controlled onto that list then.

"What are you here for?" I raised a brow, sitting back against the flat pillows the hospital had provided.

"You. I'm here to ask you what happened and evaluate any trauma you may have sustained as a favor to your father." He gave me a short smile that quickly faded as I realised what he was, a shrink. My father ran in both legal and illegal circles, he looked to be more towards the legal area but he'd landed in a grey zone so far. He was hard to read in the face.

"I was walking home, guy grabbed me, I hit him, he stabbed me, the end." I maintained eye contact as I stopped talking shortly. They always tried to analyse me to the point I shut them out and they merely declared I was dealing with a dissociate personality disorder episode or something of the sort. It wasn't true but I wouldn't attempt to correct them on that. Once labeled crazy, you're always crazy.

"Thats really all?" He raised a brow, watching me carefully. I was being analysed from the inquisitive look on his face, his eyes darted from feature to feature.

"I don't exactly recall much else than being angry with him for stabbing me and not finishing the job." I gave him a tight smile, expecting the reeling backwards to take place. Instead he seemed amused, smirking at that but nodding still, writing something down on his pad of paper.

"Very well. I don't typically see children but I would make an exception this one time, here is my card if you have any questions." He stood, handing me his card and turning around to pull on his jacket. "Your appointment is on Wednesday, 10 AM." I felt my lips tighten as he stood, so arrogant and assuming.

"I don't believe I'll be coming anytime soon." I grounded out, glowering at him.

He looked over his shoulder, just as amused as before. "I don't appreciate tardiness." He bowed his head in a respectful manner. "I wish you a pleasant recovery Miss Kira Murphy." I felt my eyes widen before I saw him exit my room, going down the hall. He knew my name and I hadn't realised it. He was playing a game now and a challenge had just been issued to see if I'd rise to the occasion, but I had to deal with other things in the moment. It was only a matter of time until my mother ran in here.

"Kira Anne Murphy! Nearly 25 years old and you're _still_ mouthin' off!" I cringed as the blonde woman stepped into the room, already on her ranting roll like a player taking to the stage for a soliloquy I wouldn't pay attention too.

She was irish born but had moved to the US with my da when I was 12. Da was American, of course. New money as one might say, he'd run into a major boom in oil long ago from his own father who'd gotten it in the early 20th century. He'd passed over 3 years ago in a car accident leaving me wondering how he'd run into a shrink.

"...You're not bloody impressing anyone with that mouth of yours. Now what do you have to say for yourself? " She seemed to have finished the yelling, looking for me to be guilty or at least have a little shame.

"I'm sorry. I was just..." I had no shame, but I mimicked it all very well. "I was just scared." I molded my face to look bashful as she seemed to almost crumple. I love her, I really do. She had my best interests at heart but I didn't share them.

"Ever since you ran into that idiot boy, Ryan or whatever the hell his name was, _years_ ago...you've been acting odd. I just forget you're still human sometimes, love." Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me close. Ryan was another case for another time to think about again. He made me into what I am but what parts he took away from me, I'd almost entirely forgotten nine years ago.

I don't think about him anymore.

I refuse.

Another time. Another day, perhaps.

* * *

"Be polite, and ask what he'd like more, cash or card." She reminded me.

"Yes mother." I sighed stepping out of the car. She still hadn't left Ashland after my incident, it seemed I'd been asleep for a good day or so giving her plenty of time to drive all the way up from her retirement in Florida at warp speed.

I was an adult in all manner of the word. I lived by myself, I had a part-time job and I was finishing up a bachelors in International Studies after four years of self study but she always treated me as though I was 13 again, just going off to boarding school in Ireland. I thought about going to Baltimore, Maryland to go ahead and finish up a masters in International Studies once I had my bachelors. My four years were spent scouring the globe for interests from Rome to Australia, I wandered.

I stepped into the glass building with some distaste, I was never found of glass. It made me feel as though I was living in the proverbial glass house only much more literally. Anyone could see into the smooth offices inside. Too open for my tastes and too easily breakable. We could go crashing through the window at any second with a good push.

Lector's was on the third floor, it appeared as though he had the entire floor to himself according to the sign in front of me. My heels clicked inside the elevator as I pressed the large plastic button with a black 3 printed on it, the skirt pulled rather painfully at the stitches I'd gained last week but I refused to acknowledge them while I was here.

The elevator opened literally up to the door making me a little nervous that it would close on my hand some how when I knocked. The door opened quickly revealing the same odd man I'd seen before. I felt more aware now, actually taking in his appearance with keen eyes.

"Miss Murphy." The blank slate that his face started out molded itself into a pleasant but professional interest in my person as he opened the door. I felt it was real though I'd been wrong before. His body gave little away with his loose but confident posture, very controlled in his person. He worked out regularly but doing what, I wasn't sure. What could a 40 year old man do to keep in shape? Why would he _need_ to? Running wouldn't give him that frame, neither would rugby, or baseball, or soccer...

"Dr Lector." I greeted, giving him a slight curtsy as I followed him into his office. I was playing nice today, testing the waters before I truly showed my hand.

"Thats a change of manners in the girl I met six days ago." He was attempting to tease me, to comfort me that he was really just like me. I doubted that. No one was like me and yet no one ever noticed that I was so much more different than them. His office was more telling of his person than his actual person, I realised this as I truly took it all in.

"Theres much you don't know about me." It was large but the polar opposite of the rest of the office building. A large library stood against the back wall, 6 shelves worth of books whose title's I couldn't read. He was intelligent and enjoyed surrounding himself with knowledge, then. Or did he just enjoy showing off what knowledge he'd gained?

Darker colours that were calmer but masculine pieces and large spaces in between the furniture. He enjoyed space between him and the other person but this was also a form of his personality. There was more that alluded me. It all made me feel like I was seeing less than the full picture here with too many different routes, all different than each other.

"I know that you're curious madam but reclusive." He was analysing me some more, making me smile at the shelves I was looking at.

"Oh?" I answered sounding distracted and uninterested on purpose. He didn't respond so I looked over my shoulder at him, sitting down in one of the three chairs in the room. "How so?" I raised a brow as I looked back towards the shelves. I kept my fingers to myself, noticing the almost obsessively clean space he'd made for himself here. His books were alphabetised, painstakingly so. I added neat-freak my list of traits.

"You're analyzing me just as I am analyzing you but in a different fashion, I think." He recounted slowly, probably checking to see if I'd already realised what he was doing. This wasn't my first round with a shrink after I was 13 so I stayed silent, choosing to look at his desk. It was large, a dominant feature in the room that was well-maintained. He enjoyed the power he held, flaunted it in the simplest of ways. Or did he enjoy holding the power over those who sat in front of it, acting as judge and executioner here.

"I apologise for calling you a child last week, I didn't realise you were a week away from being 25 years old." I paused my thoughts as I detected honest sincerity in his voice for the first time since I'd met him.

"Many don't. I realise I've got the face of a child." I snorted, admiring a drawing he'd done. It was in pencil, simple but detailed at the same time. It was Italian, easily. Perhaps early renaissance with the square, symmetrical appearance in which the building's proportions were usually based on a module. It employed the rounded roofs of such buildings and open door ways leading up to Gothic style wooden doors set in arches and decorated with a large keystone.

"Are you admiring my artwork?" His voice was much closer than I preferred. It had me looking over my shoulder with muted suspicion for the quiet man. His eyes weren't on me, rather on the piece of paper I'd been staring at.

"Perhaps." I smiled politely, looking back to the paper in a relaxed manner...but my body continued to stay tensed, despite my wishes.

"It was my boarding school when I was a boy." He explained, tapping the paper once.

"You went to school in Italy?" I raised a brow, glancing back at him.

"Yes. How did you know?" His own brow raised as he maintained heavy eye contact with me.

"The architecture. It's early renaissance, is it not?" I tested, tilting my head ever so slightly up.

"15th century." He nodded, the corner of his lips pulled up a little. I returned it with little warmth as I walked past him to go sit in my designated spot of patient and waited for him to take his as doctor.


End file.
